THE FINAL WAR
Anindya Basu
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Anindya Basu on Smashwords
The Final War
Copyright © 2012 by Anindya Basu
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THE FINAL WAR
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Epilogue 1
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Count From 0 To 100. Forwards Or Backwards?
That’s The Million-Dollar Question.
New Delhi: 26th January 2050
There will not be an India-Pakistan War ever again.
It was not as if.
India and Pakistan had shed. Their long, bitter, protracted enmity.
And.
Chosen to live. As peacefully, harmoniously co-existing neighbours.
It was because. India had ceased to exist.
Pakistan had won. The Final War. With India.
Decisively and overwhelmingly.
Instead of the tri-coloured Indian flag.
The green flag with the crescented moon.
Was flying high from the top of Red Fort.
On the day that was designated to be celebrated as India’s 101st Republic Day.
On the day India’s Prime Minister was supposed to unfurl the tri-coloured Indian flag from the top of Red Fort.
In fact. The Pakistani flag was flying all over.
The country. That was once called.
India. Bharatvarsha. Hindustan.
From now on. The whole country.
Would be known to the world. As Pakistan.
Incidentally. The country that was previously known as Bangladesh.
Had refused to be left out of the grand re-union party.
And had quietly coalesced into. What was now Pakistan.
The Holy Islamic Republic of Pakistan.
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What’s The Tally? Bang!
General Asif Ali Mirza was going over his address to the nation. The Holy Islamic Republic of Pakistan. Approved by and delivered by Maulvi Iqbal Masud himself a short while ago.
His eyes were mechanically moving through the hastily written hand-notes. But his thoughts lay elsewhere. He could still clearly remember the day. His father had died in Afghanistan, fighting for the Taliban, against the USA.
Nooruddin Mirza might have died a few days earlier. But the news reached his family that day. Asif, his younger brother and sister, their mother. Living in a run-down house in a congested slum area.
The Imam of the local mosque showering praises on Nooruddin, before a congregation. With Asif, his tearful mother and the two frightened younger children, being given pride of place.
A true hero. A martyr for Islam. God’s beloved. Has gone straight to Heaven. An idol for all true Muslim men. Thundering the Imam.
A local businessman announcing Rs. 10,000 as his contribution to the setting up of a Nooruddin Memorial. For, has he not brought infinite glory to our little town? Others followed suit.
The Imam saying to Asif. “Remember my son. You are a martyr’s son. Your father died for Islam. Never ever forget that.”
Asif had never ever forgotten.
General Asif Ali Mirza was 5 years old at that time.
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Dream. Sweet Dreams. Sweet Realities. Bitter Shame.
“President Asif. President Asif. Wake up. Wake up.”
President Asif Ali Mirza woke up from his daydreams. Sweet dreams. It was Masud. Maulvi Iqbal Masud. His left brain. His right hand. His middle penis.
“Remember. You are going on air. 30 minutes from now. Try to stay awake.”
“Sorry, Maulvi Sahib. Some old memories…”
“You won’t be sorry once the speech is over. I have lined up some lush young Hindu girls. Waiting for you, in trepidation, in anticipation, for emancipation, for liberation. Specially selected by me. Fine specimens. Juicy, succulent, tender. Like spicy beef steaks.”
Asif’s tongue moistened, muscles tightened, spine shivered. In anticipation of bliss, joy, plenty, abundance.
That Masud was sometimes impossible. Still he must be commended, recommended for knowing exactly what Asif wanted, enjoyed, what gave Asif pleasure, fun, what satisfied Asif’s thirst, hunger.
In bed Asif preferred females in the age group of 10 – 15. Flowers just opening their petals, smiling at the sun, glistening with dew drops, about to bloom forth into colours. It gave Asif huge pleasure to tear off the petals of the crying flowers one by one.
Masud suggested to Asif that there was no hurry to convert to Islam, neither the 32 crore unaffected or mildly affected Hindus left standing nor the 12 crore Hindus down with the mysterious paralytic disease —
Together they made up a total of 44 crore Hindus who had refused to convert to Islam, in a land that was once called India; that land now contained 287 crore Muslims, including 25 crore ex-Hindus who had fearfully converted to Islam over the last 10 days; out of the 25 crore, 9 crore had converted from their beds —
First let Muslim men and women enjoy to their heart’s content the pleasures of copulation with members of a specially selected group containing young Hindu girls and women, and good-looking, able-bodied young Hindu boys and men. Then start converting the rest of the Hindu population. As for the members of the select group. They would nearly become Muslims after copulation with Muslims. Their case could be taken up much later at a leisurely pace.
Masud’s eyes and lips suddenly twitched. And face and nose wore a frown. A worried Asif saw Masud staring at his food and wine palate. “Don’t drink too much or gulp down too much food. Or, there may be a recurrence of that shameful incident.”
“Don’t worry, Maulvi Sahib. I’ve learnt my lesson well. There will not be. Any more such occurrence.”
“Well then, goodbye for the time being, President Asif.”
“Goodbye, Maulvi Sahib.”
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McFool Don’t You Snigger Any More
It was really a shameful incident as Masud had said. And the sniggers of that Henry McPherson. Asif was not the President then.
The American President Henry McPherson had invited to Christmas dinner a special dignitary. The Army Chief of Pakistan, Asif Ali Mirza. Besides the two there were a few aides from either side —
The dinner starting well. But then Asif starting to drink like a hosepipe. And gulping his food like a garbage excavator. The poor Mohajir boy had had no indulgences during his poverty stricken childhood. And later in life when lady luck had started smiling on him, Asif, to make up for his depraved childhood, had had much more than his fair share of food and wine at any gathering. But this time he was going too far. Gone. Gone. Gone. Not able to control his bowels, bladder, throat any longer. And then the unthinkable happening. General Asif Ali Mirza making a mess of himself, right in front of President Henry McPherson.
Well, it must be admitted President Henry McPherson was decent enough in hushing things up. But Asif never able to forget the sniggering looks and taunting smiles that, that McPherson giving him, whenever, wherever the two happening to meet. Asif further recounting. Even after that day, that incident, McPherson doubling his agony by pouring ice-cold water over his hot, aggressive penis erecting against India at the UN —
Well now, he had gone one up on that fool McPherson. How he would like to see the face of that McPherson now.
After Asif’s army had started to run over India, McPherson had threatened to invade Pakistan. He had to beat a hasty retreat when Asif’s long, trusting friend President Guao Zing of China had threatened to nuke any country that dared to invade China’s long-time ally Pakistan. Which was surprising since China was not supposed to have any nuclear weapons or for that matter any country other than the USA and Russia.
A good man close to my heart, that Guao Zing. Asif suddenly started smiling at the thought of McPherson’s supposed discomfiture at Guao Zing’s threat.
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Confirmation
Asif’s smile session was interrupted by an apparition. It was the Maulvi. “Oh Asif, I couldn’t… Some real good news. Britain and China have scuttled calls for an emergency Security Council meeting. They have also said they would oppose any future moves trying to corner Pakistan, which has acted nobly and honourably and whose sole motive was to save the sub-continent from total anarchy and bloody communal riots. Well President, I think we should raise a toast to our good friends Guao Zing and Tommy Witherspoon.”
As their glasses clinked, Asif fondly thought of Prime Minister Tommy Witherspoon of Britain. A man with whose tastes, a lot of his own were similar. Especially in the subjects of sexual lust and lusty sexual appetite.
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A Primer On Appetites. Not That Appetising.
Tommy Witherspoon came from typical English middle-class stock. His forefathers had made it good in India during British colonial rule. Little Tommy, sitting on his grandfather’s lap, had heard tales of British bravery and the Indian Maharajas’ opulence. Little Tommy had decided that when he grew up he would imitate the lifestyle of those magnificent Maharajas. Asif had satisfied one of Tommy’s long-standing ambitions when he had gone on a state visit to Pakistan. He had allowed the British Prime Minister the use of his luxurious villa, built with an eye to satisfy his own carnal needs. Asif had watched with glee on his close circuit TV —
Tommy in his birthday-suit, coming down the stairs. With naked Pakistani beauties on either side, showering him with rose petals. The same group of women, excepting two, guiding Tommy into the scented water. Where they started massaging him with various coloured extracts and perfumed ointments. Tommy out of the water. The two woman standing, drying him, with their long black perfumed lustrous hairs —
After getting dressed up, Tommy had gone straight to Asif, embraced him and promised that from then on Britain and Pakistan would become inseparable friends on the world stage.
Guao Zing’s case was radically different. The only son of poor over-worked factory workers, at the age of 8, Guao had lost his mother, a victim of China’s monstrously cruel labour conditions. His father had lost his zeal for living and found himself out of work for long periods of time. 8-year-old Guao, urged on by a near empty stomach, had become streetwise. He had soon found out the water bodies and garbage dumps where Chinese couples dumped their newborn infants, in fear of violating dictatorial China’s one couple – one child policy. Guao had become adept at fishing newborn babies out of water bodies and extracting them from garbage dumps —
In the wee hours of the morning, Guao taking back bodies of newborn babies, wrapped in plastic. Reaching home. His eagerly waiting father sitting on the doorsteps. His father skinning the babies. Roasting one of the freshly skinned babies. One baby sufficient for a day. Little Guao and his father, feasting on the tiny babies ravenously, with tearing fingers and gobbling mouths —
Even after their condition had improved, and even after Guao had managed to enter one of the military schools, he could not forget for his life, the taste of tender, roasted baby flesh. At first when Asif had learned of Guao’s cannibalistic tendencies he had shuddered. But later shrugged it off as Guao’s personal taste. In fact, he had hit upon a novel way to secure Guao’s friendship. A newly self-crowned President of Pakistan had hosted his Chinese counterpart in a private lunch —
Guao astonished. When served a whole baby roast, marinated in a Pakistani spice mix. As he was carving up the roast, forcing large portions inside his mouth, tears of joy were dropping from the squinted eyes of a delighted Guao. Asif offering Guao’s Chinese chefs the recipe of this special roast. Asif promising to send a monthly consignment of ten frozen and skinned babies to Guao every month —
Guao had been beside himself with joy. Immediately after finishing his lunch, he had got up and embraced Asif. Afterwards, besides making the customary noises about friendship and co-operation, he had made an offer of a very strategic deal. Guao’s deal, which Asif had accepted readily, was instrumental to Asif’s success. China had given Pakistan a blanket guarantee of a nuclear protection umbrella, which had surprised Asif, since China or for that matter any other country other than USA and Russia was not supposed to have nuclear weapons. Asif had chosen to keep quiet. He had taken Guao’s words seriously, knowing Guao Zing was not a man given to empty boasts.
Asif would have been surprised much more if he had known Guao would have offered that strategic deal anyway, even without that special offering. Actually, Tommy too would have made that promise anyway, even without that special arrangement. A short-statured, lightly-built woman in her early thirties, had made sure of that during her secret meetings with Tommy in London and Guao in Beijing.
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Prologue
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Starter
Date: 15th August 1947
Place: New Delhi
The handsome man had just finished his speech about India’s tryst with destiny. Deep inside he knew this was just the beginning. Within a few months he would hand over a part of India to Pakistan as part of his deal with the lean man. A deal brokered by the royal man and facilitated by the royal woman.
Of course, before that he had to remove a long-standing thorn from his path. His agents in the Hindu militant outfit had selected a hotheaded young man who was perfectly suitable for the designated job.
Once that frail, old man was gone, he would be free to implement his secret agenda. The first one would be to corrupt his party by inducting thousands of communists in his party under the guise of making India a socialist country, for which his party needed people with socialist ideas and thoughts.
The second one would be to wage a covert battle against Hinduism and its ideals by setting up institutions all over the country, which would be full of his communist friends and their anti-Hindu, anti-Indian ideas.
The third one would be to fetter the Indian economy by introducing Soviet-style planning and nurturing British-style bureaucracy.
The fourth would be to ruin India’s villages by wilful neglect of primary education and basic healthcare on one hand, and on the other hand mess up India’s towns by unplanned, asymmetric development under the guise of modernisation.
The fifth would be to develop cosy relationships with all the Muslim-majority countries of the world.
The sixth would be his masterstroke. He would force a common civil code on the Hindus so that the Hindu population could not grow out of bounds. But for the Muslims, under the pretext of safeguard of minority rights under Indian secularism, he would allow them to be controlled by their own Personal Law, so that the Muslim population could grow unfettered, unchecked, unrestricted, unlimited. And that would ensure that a day would come when the Muslims would outnumber the Hindus in the country. And that day would be the precursor to the ultimate transformation of the country.
The ultimate transformation that was his ultimate aim.
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Step By Step
1960 – 2002
Beijing, 1960
The Chinese Premier was going through the letter written by his Indian counterpart. It was all settled. China would attack India two years later. And the Indian Premier would make sure that the Indian army would be totally unprepared for the attack. The Indian Premier had thought out everything in advance. The purpose was three-fold. Firstly, demoralise the Indian Army. Secondly, open up another frontier for the Indian Army to defend. And finally and most importantly, push China into the embrace of an over-eager Pakistan…
***
Moscow, 1966
A posthumous letter had just been read out at the Soviet communist
party meeting in Moscow just a week before the Indian Prime Minister
was to visit Tashkent.
…Any Indian Prime Minister who is not a
member of my family but shows firmness in dealing with Pakistan
without prior approval from Soviet leaders must be eliminated…
It
was decided that the diminutive man was too dangerous to be left
alive. After all, the wish of the deceased Indian Premier, a great
friend of the Soviet Union, had to be kept. Not only that, if that
diminutive man remained India’s Prime Minister for a few more
years, the chances of making a communist India’s Prime Minister
would greatly diminish. The head of the KGB was called for and put in
charge of the operation. And the head of the KGB was ordered to be
present in person at the hotel to oversee the operation – the
operation to assassinate the Indian Prime Minister…
***
Simla, 1972
The female de facto dictator of India knew that she had the chance to settle the Kashmir dispute with Pakistan once for all. A Pakistan that was literally grovelling on its knees. But, eight years ago, she had promised to her father on his deathbed that she would try her best to keep the border disputes with Pakistan and China alive. It was in the best interests of the country, he had said in a trembling voice. She did not see any logic at that time and neither could she now. But, she could not go back on the promise she had made to her dying father…
***
New Delhi, 1979
The head of the first family had read out excerpts from the founder’s
letter to the Soviet mole after handing him a fat bag bursting to the
brim with hundred rupee notes.
…Members of this dangerous Hindu
organisation cannot be allowed to be part of any government at the
centre…
The Soviet mole in the Indian cabinet, an ardent admirer
of the first family’s founder, had just managed to poison the
dumb-headed, rigid-minded Indian Premier’s ears to his
satisfaction. The Premier assured him that he would call upon his
party MPs holding dual membership of the Hindu organisation to resign
from that organisation. In case they failed to comply, they would be
asked to leave the party. And the shortfall in numbers would be made
up by MPs of the leftist parties, the Soviet mole promised…
***
New Delhi, 1981
The all-powerful head of the Chinese communist party had sent a secret proposal to settle China’s border dispute with India once for all. But, there was no way she could agree to it. And the reason was the same nine years back. The promise she had made to her dying father. Of course, she would later pass off the proposal as being an affront to the country’s dignity and sovereignty, besides being in conflict with the resolution passed in Parliament by her father vowing to recover all of India’s territories lost in wars with Pakistan and China…
***
Kolkata, 1982
The communist Chief Minister was going through the letter sent by the Chinese communist party. The letter ordered him to actively encourage and increase the infiltration of Bangladeshi Muslims through the porous West Bengal-Bangladesh border and once they were in West Bengal, arrange for citizenship papers proving that they were Indian citizens. There was no way the Chief Minister of West Bengal would know that the Chinese communist party was merely conveying the wish of the founder of the first family. A wish that was expressed in a letter sent to the Chinese communist party a long time ago as part of his transformation plan…
***
New Delhi, 1985
The mild mannered, cherubic man was caught in the horns of a dilemma. On one hand, modernity demanded that the judgement delivered by the highest court of the country be respected and adhered to. On the other hand, the Muslim fundamentalists demanded that the judgement be overturned because they deemed it as an interference in their Personal Law… He had made up his mind. He would go by what his grandfather had advised him when he was just a young boy. Never, ever try to tamper with the Muslim Personal Law. It was sacrosanct. And, in the event of Hindus getting really angry at what they perceived as blatant minority appeasement, they could always be cooled down by being allowed to offer worship at that disputed site…
***
New Delhi, 1992
The bald, wily man had received information from intelligence sources that plans had been set in place to bring down the disputed structure the next morning. But, he was to take no action to prevent it and just sit tight. A confidant of the first family had informed him that this was the first family’s order. Actually, it was an order by the first family’s founder passed down generations. There was no way that the bald, wily man dared to disobey the orders of the first family…
***
New Delhi, 1998
The members of the first family were feeling restless. Despite 1992, the Hindu nationalist party had managed to grab power at the centre at the head of a coalition. And now, to add insult to injury, it was earnestly trying to solve the Kashmir dispute with Pakistan. The peace moves with Pakistan had to be scuttled at any cost. Even if that meant war with Pakistan. Which could always be arranged for by using the first family’s good relations with the Army Chief of Pakistan…
***
Gandhinagar, 2002
The last minute instructions had come in from Kolkata and London to
the Indian members of the covert Pakistani network. The Hindu
nationalist party could not be allowed to win another term at the
centre. And for this, any means, fair or foul, had to be resorted to.
Of course, there was nothing fair about the sinister plan to burn
alive the Karsevaks returning from Ayodhya, which would almost
certainly draw a massive retaliation from the Hindus. And this in
turn, would help greatly in tarnishing the image of the Hindu
nationalist party…
In a farmhouse on the outskirts of New Delhi,
the members of the first family were all smiles. Barring a few
hiccups here and there, the transformation plan — thought up and
put in motion by the first family’s founder 55 years ago — was
progressing smoothly – the plan to transform India into an Islamic
country…
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Smash And Grab
For over 70 years, China had been waiting for the opportunity. And when it came, China grabbed it with both hands.
After all, if 5 years ago the USA could nuke North Korea into oblivion on mere suspicion, without concrete proof, and what later turned out to be a monumental blunder, there was no reason why China could not do the same in the case of Taiwan.
The USA, which had still not recovered from the international censuring it had received — even from its staunch allies — neither was in any position nor had the inclination to stop China from smashing and grabbing Taiwan.
China was also helped by the fact that six months ago, the USA had broken up with Taiwan. The thorn of dispute was over the issue of Taiwan’s declaration of independence. After a nation-wide referendum, the Taiwanese Prime Minister had declared that Taiwan would declare full independence in a year’s time.
China’s excuse was simple. The SARS-4 epidemic which had killed over 3 lakh humans in China and which had now affected millions in Taiwan, was the result of an experiment by Taiwanese scientists gone awry.
And so now, Taiwan was going to be Tibetised. That is, suffer the same fate as that of Tibet.
It was the 1st of May in the year 2022.
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Sow The Wind
The Kashmiri bastard Prime Minister had sown the wind by granting special privileged status to Kashmir.
More than 75 years later, the nation was reaping the whirlwind. The World Islamic Council had admitted Kashmir as a member state amidst protests by India. Of course, on the same day, Turkey had become a full-fledged Islamic State. But that was of no consequence at least in India.
In Kashmir, there was no Hindu left. Or, for that matter any non-Muslim. The last group of Hindus had left Kashmir for the slums of Delhi on 14th August 2024, Pakistan’s 78th independence day. For all practical purposes, Kashmir had become another province of Pakistan. The only reason, the leaders of Kashmir were not declaring independence from India, was that life as a parasite had become too comfortable for the region of Kashmir. There were still lots of blood left for the Kashmiri mosquito to suck from the body of the dumb cow that was India.
No, there was another reason. Independence will mean that the Kashmiri militant outfits would have no reason to exist and carry out periodic massacres of Hindus all over India, as a protest against India occupying Kashmir. And, if the Kashmiri militant outfits did not exist anymore, the handsome Kashmiri Brahmin man’s 1947 transformation plan would go all awry. The Kashmiri militant outfits would be urgently required during the final stage of the plan.
It was the 15th of December in the year 2025.
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The Wages Of Sin
Russia had received a New Year gift. A gift that made it look like a gift horse in the mouth.
The Soviet Union and Russia had for over a hundred years assisted hardcore Islamic countries in building up deadly arsenals of conventional weapons and chemical weapons. Now, it was stuck in its mouth with the poison fruits of the poison trees it itself had planted seeds of.
All the central Asian republics with pre-dominant Muslim populations had transformed from civil states into hardline Islamic States.
It was the 1st of January in the year 2028.
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From Russia With Hate
The miniscule minority of historians, who held that the Hitler-Stalin non-aggression pact, far from being an accident, was in the natural course of events, was finally vindicated a long 94 years after.
Russia had become the world’s first Christian State. Henceforth, all non-Christian Russians would be treated as second-class citizens in their own country.
A special celebration was to be held in the Vatican in the evening. In the morning, the Pope had been the first person off the blocks to send a congratulatory message to the Russian President Arkady Ivan Krasnov. After that Pope James Peter, in a special broadcast from the Vatican, urged all Christian-majority countries to follow Russia’s courageous and glorious example.
It was the 1st of January in the year 2032.
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The Wonder That Is India
Mark Richards, the newly sworn in President of the USA was wondering aloud to himself. “Truly India is an amazing country. With Pakistan and Iran signing a hundred-year friendship treaty only 20 months ago, India needed a really strong leader with tough diplomatic skills at the helm. But the Indians have shot themselves in the head and chosen a cross between a billy-goat and a pumpkin to lead them. A man with the brains of a billy-goat and the body of a pumpkin. A man with a face like a billy-goat and the demeanour of a pumpkin.”
What Mark Richards had said about Makhan Lal Yadav, the new Prime Minister of India, was not far from the truth. With the Indian elections held in September turning out to be indecisive, CUD, short for Coalition for Unity and Development, had staked claim to form the government, with outside support from the Progress Party. There was never a more appropriate name for a coalition as all the parties in the coalition — an unholy, opportunistic mix of leftist parties, regional parties and populist parties — had a habit of making cud of almost all issues of national importance.
The dimwitted Makhan Lal Yadav from the Popular Party had been chosen by Arunangshu Chatterjee and Vidisha Gandhi as the consensus candidate for Prime Minister.
It was the 6th of October in the year 2036.
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Chinese Chow Chow
Date: 15th April 2040
Place: Deng Space Station in South Gobi desert
Station commander Qiang Xin was having last minute talks with her associates before a very secret mission.
Li Bao, first assistant commander, had his doubts. “Comrade Qiang, why are we launching ten satellites in a single day? How are we going to explain this to the international media? I mean launching ten satellites in a single day is bound to arouse suspicions.”
Qiang assured Li, “Be patient. I will tell you everything. As soon as the last satellite blazes away.”
Two hours later. The last of the satellites was gone.
Li almost ran into Qiang’s room. This time round second assistant commander Ma Jun, who also shared Li’s worry, tagged along.
Li could not contain himself anymore. “Now comrade Qiang, will you tell me what’s this hush-hush all about?”
Qiang, putting up her right forefinger before her mouth in a conspiratorial manner, said, “Under the party’s orders, only the three of us are allowed to know.” After a pause of one minute, she could not contain her relief as she let out the secret that she was not able to keep inside her anymore. “Those 10 recoverable space vehicles, disguised as geo-stationary observer satellites, contain a total of 250 nuclear tipped ICBMs.”
Both Li and Ma were flummoxed at this information, but they knew the party must have had some valid reason for sending the nuclear ICBMs into space.
Li repeated the question he had asked two hours earlier. “But comrade Qiang, as I asked earlier, how are we going to explain this to the international media?”
Qiang smiled broadly. “No cause to worry, Comrade Li. I have already thought up of a nice, neat plan, which has been passed and praised by the big comrades. Under their orders Comrade Wang Lin, the head of the department of history at Beijing University, has unearthed new facts about the glorious revolution, which is all set for publication. On this day, ninety years ago, a hundred armed anti-revolutionaries from the breakaway land had sneaked through with the secret mission of bumping off all our top revolutionary leaders. But a hundred metres from their targets they had come up with unexpected resistance from ten brave Red Army soldiers guarding the ancient castle in which our top revolutionary leaders were in a secret conference. The castle walls were manned by just ten soldiers with the remaining forty soldiers standing guard inside. These ten soldiers, without thinking of their lives, had jumped off from the castle wall, headlong into the mass of marauding attackers, and started firing ferociously. Expecting little resistance, the attackers had been taken by surprise. Before they could blink their eyes, half their force had been mowed down.
Even while dying, these brave patriots had not spared the enemy. Summoning their last reserves of strength, they had started strangling the counter-revolutionaries with their bare hands. Only thirty from the original gang of hundred had been left, that too in a shocked and injured state. They had been no match for the guards who had stormed out from inside the castle. The reason why this glorious battle had got buried under the vagaries of time is that just after two days, the old castle had got burnt down in an accidental fire, consuming to ashes the bodies of the ten noble patriots, putting paid to a grand plan of erecting an ever lasting memorial to them. It is in memory of the sacrifice made by those ten brave patriots that we are going to launch ten satellites, each of them shining with the name of a patriot inscribed on it.”
Li Bao was really convinced as evinced by his broad smile. “I must really congratulate you comrade Qiang. What a magnificent idea!”
But second assistant commander Ma Jun was still not happy. “I agree that it is a great idea comrade Qiang, but what about the costs? I mean the economy is still in a slump, how can we afford to…”
Qiang gave a benign smile. “Don’t be so naive, comrade Ma. You must surely know that the costs are underwritten by our Saudi friends. In fact, for the last seventy-five years, it is our friends from Saudi Arabia who have been bearing the brunt of the expenditure needed for building up our country’s great military-industrial complex.”
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Fool Pace Peace
Paris: 6th May 2040
The US President Mark Richards was wondering to himself. “It was foolish of India to take the decision to eliminate its nuclear weapons. Surrounded on three sides by enemies, as it is. The nuclear weapons would have acted as a strong deterrent to ambitious misadventures by India’s enemies. Only 5 years ago, Iran jilted India by signing that hundred-year friendship treaty with Pakistan. India should have clung on to its nuclear weapons with all its might. But who am I to say all this. India is a democratic country and its people have voted for a coalition known for its pacifist views and bent on eliminating nuclear weapons. The opposition Nationalist Party has come out with strong protests, but everyone says it is a party of Hindu fundamentalists, whose sole aim is to attack Muslims and destroy mosques.”
Makhan Lal Yadav, the bearded, pot-bellied, bald, hunchbacked Indian Prime Minister, a cross between a billy-goat and a pumpkin, was delivering an impassioned, Nobel peace prize winning speech, littered with all the standard peacenik propaganda, without a care for ground realities. India — with two openly hostile neighbours, Pakistan and Bangladesh, the two of which took their orders from Saudi Arabia, a silently hostile backstabbing neighbour China, and the latest addition to the list, a seemingly not hostile Myanmar, which took its orders from China — simply could not afford to be pacifist and non-violent.
The UF coalition ruling India was supported by the leftist parties from outside. The leftists had a total of 70 seats out of which the SMPI alone had 55, of which 45 were from the state of West Bengal.
UF stood for United Friends but derisively called Unabashed Farters and Unflinching Fools by virulent critics who were indignant at the torrent of empty words continuously gushing out from the mouths of UF leaders. Makhan Lal Yadav’s speechwriters had got the script okayed by both Vidisha Gandhi and Arunangshu Chatterjee, the two most powerful leaders of the UF coalition, before handing it over to him.
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Too Late: Nationalist Party Comes To Power
New Delhi: 12th August 2041
M.K. Singh was thinking of 2020. He had just won his first elections by a record margin and would be entering parliament for the first time.
Just a month after the Nationalist Party had come to power, the 6th India-Pakistan war had started. The 6th India-Pakistan war had been fought on water unlike the five previous ones. The war had ended in ten days and was as indecisive as the two previous ones.
True to their nature the Indian fifth columnists gloated over the fact that 70 % of India’s western fleet had been destroyed. To them it was of little concern that Pakistan, which had provoked India into the naval war, had lost 90 % of its Arabian Sea fleet.
The 6th India-Pakistan war had goaded the Nationalist Party into some affirmative action. The Nationalist Party had given the status of national language to all languages of the country and had also abolished the Hindu caste system, at least officially.
And as usual, the Nationalist Party’s detractors had found nothing praiseworthy with these two legislations. Those same people who had accused the Nationalist Party of being a Hindi Brahmin party now could find no faults in Hindi being the only national language of the country or only Brahmins being allowed to be priests of temples.
And three days after the two legislations had been passed, the Nationalist Party had come up with the Pokhran-4 bomb. And as they had done after Pokran-2 and Pokran-3, the self-styled peaceniks of the country, the secularists and communists among them, had come up with queer, convoluted logic and reasoning. First, they had said it would ultimately provoke Pakistan into a 7th India-Pakistan war.
Secondly, they had said it was a Hindu Hitler bomb designed to frighten the Muslims of India. Then they had said with 50 % of the country’s villages still not having clean drinking water, electricity or connecting roads, it was a crime to waste so much money on Pokhran-4. They had exaggerated the costs of Pokhran-4 by 20 times.
But, they had not succeeded in their evil designs. The sagacious Prime Minister of the Nationalist Party, Madan Mohan Das had addressed the nation on TV, and quietly torn to pieces the Goebbelsian net of lies and falsehoods that the Nationalist party’s detractors were trying to enmesh the country with.
The Nationalist Party’s detractors had been deflated. But they had pinned their last hopes on Pakistan coming up with the Chagai-3 bomb within seven days, but were sorely disappointed when Pakistan had announced that it was incapable of giving a reply to India’s bomb. And with that the protests, meetings, processions, speeches, writings against Pokhran-4 had gradually started dying out.
M.K. Singh and his colleagues at the Nationalist party had been quite shocked when the next government with the Progress Party in power at the head of a coalition had frittered away the gains of Pokhran-4.
Back to the present.
There were lots of senior leaders in the Nationalist Party who had tried their best to prevent M.K. Singh from becoming the Prime Minister. Senior leaders like Ashutosh Patel, Brijmohan Dixit, Narayan Singh, Rupesh Yadav, Venkatesh Murthy.
Unknown to M.K. Singh, one among the five was in the pay of SIA, Saudi Intelligence Agency.
In addition to them there were lots of troublemakers in the Nationalist Party who thought it was their holy duty to force their brand of Indian culture down people’s throats. The leader of these troublemakers was Kinkar Kumar aided by his able assistants Chinta Chopra and Milind Mani.
His task would be to curb the powers of the five big bosses. He would also call the three culture vultures to his office and give them a dressing down.
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The Hard Truth About Gujarat
Secret documents in the possession of a Pakistani agent who handed herself over to the officials of the Indian embassy in London on 15th March 2014 contained startling revelations about the Gujarat riots that took place at the beginning of the 21st century. After 29 years, the British government had finally decided to make those documents public.
Everything about the Gujarat riots was planned down to the last detail in Kolkata and London…
Most of the barbaric crimes committed on Muslims, about which the Indian secular brigade gloated about for years on end, were carried out either by Muslims disguised as Hindus or by Hindus under the influence of powerful, hypnotic drugs. The powerful, hypnotic drugs had been developed in a secret underground laboratory in west London in 1998…
And after 45 years, that same laboratory was up to something much more sinister.
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Lab To Cut Flab
London: 11th February 2043
A secret underground laboratory in west London — holding the keys to India’s survival as a nation. The lab had been set up in 1990 with British expertise and Saudi Arabian funding and Pakistani deceit. From the very beginning, scientific talents from all over the world had been lured to this Brit-Pak-Saudi joint venture, which had the blessings of the World Islamic Council, the conglomeration of Islamic countries. Right now, the chief scientists were the American Gregory Jones, the British Bill Redwood, the Chinese Li Jun, the Pakistani Abdul Haque and the Japanese Akiro Fujita.
Gregory Jones, a toxicologist, was both an outcast and a hero in the American scientific community for, his views supporting the Bible belt hotheads on the issues of abortion and teaching of Biblical evolutionary theory in American schools, and his firm stand against affirmative action for economically backward blacks and social security funding, besides being an apologist for the former white supremacist rule in the South.
Bill Redwood was not only a bio-chemist but also a hardcore paedophile, so common in modern British society. Years ago in Goa, he had been caught red-handed while molesting two young boys and a young girl in his hotel room. And, before being handed over to the authorities, had received a sound thrashing from the local populace. Back in England, Redwood had failed to amend his ways. And had been dismissed from his prestigious position of senior biochemist after found molesting the daughter of the director of the famous laboratory where he worked.
Li Jun was a brilliant molecular biologist and the former lover of President Guao Zing and the present lover of his son. In bed, Li had pointed out to the scientifically illiterate Guao the tremendous potentials of the modern biological sciences while demonstrating her love-making skills. Guao had sent his favourite Li to this top-secret lab as a result of a special request from the British premier Tommy Witherspoon.
As a zoologist Abdul Haque was no great shakes but he more than made up for his inadequacy as a scientist with his legendary thieving skills. Time and again, he had managed to steal blueprints of top-class research documents from each and every laboratory he had managed to worm his way in. It was also rumoured that the handsome, macho Pakistani had also managed to steal into the bedrooms of some high-society British noblewomen.
Akiro Fujita, a top-notch cytologist was rising fast in the biotech firm, which had recruited him in his final university year. But then his passion for gambling had let him down. Faced with a mounting debt to gamblers, he took the easy way out by selling research blueprints to a rival firm. After a few months, he was found out and promptly fired.
***
The five were now sitting at a round table meeting in a sparsely furnished, dimly lit room.
The paedophile began. “Friends, fellow scientists, after two years of hard toil, we have managed to invent HK-41. A lethal cocktail, which has but only one natural antidote. The results of the test have come in an hour ago. All the 250 cases without antidote have died, whereas all the 250 cases with antidote are fit and healthy.”
The other four scientists began clapping with yells of joy. After the applause had died down, the paedophile resumed. “In this moment of joy, one must not forget the contribution of the Holy Mission, which sent us samples on a regular basis.”
The gambler interrupted him. “I really do not see the purpose behind the invention of HK-41. But I will be happy if I can pay off my debt and live in luxury for the rest of my life.”
The dual lover mildly rebuked him. “Ours is not to ask what or why but to do or die.”
The religious bug bitten scientist gravely said, “I hope what we have done is for God and not for Satan.”
The thieving Casanova smiled. “ I can guess, but then I had better not. Loose talk can be dangerous.”
The paedophile nodded in agreement. “That’s right. I can assure you, my mates, that HK-41 will be put to proper use and never misused. But enough of this. Now for the grand announcement. Our generous sponsors have announced a bonus of 5 million dollars for the each of us…”
The rest of his words were drowned in a cacophony of delight.
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Tests And Dosages And Tastes
24th April 2043
A privately owned island in the Mediterranean was apparently too far away to have anything to do with India or Indians. But in truth it was just the opposite. For if AdTech Lab in London, England had in its possession the poison arrow that was capable of tearing out the heart of India, a secret meeting on this tiny, unassuming island was to decide if that poison arrow would be fired to seal the fate of India as a nation.
It was a meeting between the two powerful world bodies, the World Islamic Council and the United Christian Coalition. More than a hundred years earlier, the fate of millions of Jews had been decided at such a meeting. Adolf Hitler, while torturing and exterminating Jews in concentration camps and gas chambers, had been merely following orders, taken down from powerful interests that had gathered at that meeting.
Today the fate of more than a thousand million Hindus hung in the balance. The meeting between WIC and UCC was to decide whether to hand out the same punishment to Hindus as that had been handed out to Jews more than a hundred years back. Mass Extermination. For Hindus were the new Jews of the world.
***
Reverend Michael Fields of the UCC got up to shake hands with Sheikh Mubarak Ali of the WIC in an exclusive chamber.
“Greetings, my dear brother. I hope you are satisfied with the amenities provided here.”
“Surely, my dear brother. Are we not related to each other? As narrated in the Holy Book. It is time for us to bury the hatchet among Muslims and Christians. For do not we both worship the same monolithic God?”
“I agree. For too long we have wasted our time and energy in fighting each other, while our common enemies have grown in strength. More than a hundred years ago, following our dictates, dear Adolf had almost succeeded in carrying out the task given to him. That of clearing the world of filthy, smelly Jews. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite finish the task.”
“You’re right and the poisonous serpents managed to carve out the sinful state of Israel, which has been biting and poisoning pious Muslims since then, while in the USA those vampires have been sucking the blood of honest Christians.”
“It is a shame for all Christians that the Christ killers have managed to build up a formidable network in the USA and it is next to impossible to dislodge it.”
“Yes, that same network funds, encourages and uses Israel as a bulwark against Islamic countries. We too are finding that garbage vat Israel a hard nut to crack.”
“So, it will be prudent in that case, to take on the lesser of our enemies, the Hindu fundamentalist India.”
“Yes, the idolatrous Hindus are no less our enemy and India being a soft state, a pincer attack by the two of us will squash that filthy country flat and spill out its guts.”
“It’s an excellent idea but there are two major difficulties. The first one is that that loony liberal Alexander Davis, who has a soft corner for India, is in the White House. He must not win a re-election, otherwise it will be extremely difficult if not impossible to implement our plans. Secondly, that rabid Hindu fundamentalist Nationalist Party is in power in India. Of course, we have our agents in that party but it will be a lot easier if in the next general elections, it can be kicked out of power and replaced by a weak coalition led by the Progress Party. There is a third difficulty albeit a minor one. There is a civilian government in Pakistan, which is the key player in our designs. But of course replacing it by a military dictatorship after a coup d’etat will be as easy as pie, simply because last month, our man Asif Ali Mirza has taken over as the Army Chief in Pakistan.”
“So far so good. Don’t worry about the first two difficulties, these will be washed away in our oil money. But exterminating a thousand million Hindus will be a gigantic if not wasteful task. Won’t it be better if we if we knock off the miniscule percentage of courageous ones among them and convert to Islam the rest of the cowards?”
“Well, that will call for a slight change in our plans. I think our friend from AdTech Lab will be in a better position to answer your query.”
The paedophile was sent for to meet the two religious fanatics.
After a mutual exchange of pleasantries, Michael Fields put up Mubarak Ali’s query.
“Your graces, this is not a problem at all. It is just a matter of dosage,” replied Bill Redwood.
“That’s nice. Then let our subordinates work out the nitty-gritty of the plan. We had better be off to meet our gracious host.”
***
After a few instructions to the other members of the WIC and the UCC, the threesome took the elevator to the top floor penthouse of the luxurious, sprawling three storied building.
Their host broke out into a wicked smile on seeing them. “My friends, this way. I have kept in mind all your preferences. Reverend, this room you will find a 16-year-old juicy, luscious, lascivious young girl, with big boobs and a soft voice, just as you like. Sheikh, once you open the door to this room, you will find a 17-year-old beautiful boy with the most splendid body, waiting for you. Lastly for you Billy boy, this room contains two nice little children, a girl and a boy, both aged 8.”
After the three went about their tasks, the host went into another room. And switching on three television sets, simultaneously began watching the three sex maniacs in action.
He never missed a chance to indulge in voyeuristic pleasures, which delighted him immensely. He had formed this habit from the age of 12. And the starting place had been none other than Buckingham Palace. For, he was Prince George from the British royal family and also the owner of this island named Geo.
***
To a disinterested observer, the conversation between Michael Fields and Mubarak Ali would seem too theatrical. And Prince George’s attitude towards them too deferential. But the scripts had been written down beforehand by a 25-year-old woman. The only daughter of Shahjahan Syed and Mumtaz Begum nee Mandira Chatterjee, had handed down the scripts in three separate meetings in Cairo, Rome and London in the first week of April. Her task at each meeting had been as easy as snatching a sweetmeat from a toddler’s hands. A rectangular piece of paper containing the dollar sign followed by the digit three and six zeroes, had made sure that the recipients would memorise diligently the scripts handed over to them and act accordingly.
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Holy Mission. Unholy Mission.
Angela Covetti picked up the ringing phone. It was the Reverend.
After 6 minutes, an angry, flustered, red-faced Angela slammed down the receiver. So loudly, that Roberto Covetti, leaving his computer, came running in from the next room. More surprised when he saw his dear Angela in the state she was.
Angela, telling her husband to sit down, quickly narrated the details of the telephonic conversation, between herself and the Reverend. She ended by exclaiming that the Reverend must surely have got the devil in his head.
The Reverend had wanted a consignment of 50 healthy, fit, destitute, poor Hindus, equal number of males and females, age group ranging from 5 to 60. To be delivered within one month, from Kolkata to London, in groups of 10, so as not to arouse suspicion. Masquerading as members of a big family, disguised as tourists and sponsored by the Holy Mission, in an act of Christian charity.
Angela would not give in to such an order. Even though the Reverend was her superior. She might be a devout Catholic Christian. But, ultimately, her duties lay towards Lord Jesus Christ. And not towards any human being who used, abused the Lord’s name in vain. Her heart told her to follow the message of love preached by the Lord. And not the dictates of any human being who hated, looked down upon fellow God-fearing human beings, simply because they were not Christians.
Angela declared firmly, the Reverend definitely had some nefarious designs in his mind. Roberto nodded.
“Angela dear, I am sure. The Reverend is surely going to remove you from the post of Director, Holy Mission and me from the post of Treasurer, Holy Mission. This must be the last straw on the camel’s back. After all, the 20 months you have been in charge of the Holy Mission. You have refused to convert a single Hindu to Christianity. Not only that. If the Reverend had had heard about your views on abortion, he would have kicked you out long ago.”
Elizabeth Gomes, the Anglo-Indian assistant of Angela was in the meanwhile quietly listening to the conversation between Angela and Roberto. Five minutes later, she went to the toilet and called the Reverend on her visual phone.
“Elizabeth, it is admirable that you have informed me immediately of this conversation. Listen, I have decided to remove those two pagans from Holy Mission. No, not from their services but from this world itself. And you will be the one to help me carry out their execution. I have always admired your efficiency and dedication to our cause. If you manage to bump off those two shames of Christianity and pass off their deaths as accidents, without arousing the suspicions of anybody, I promise, you will be the new director of Holy Mission.”
Elizabeth’s face became steely cruel. She had always hated Angela and Roberto. And now that the Reverend had given her the go ahead, she would not allow Angela and Roberto to see the next day’s sunrise.
Elizabeth called the SMPI bigwig known to her as Mr. Chatterjee, on her visual phone. Mr. Chatterjee ensured her that Angela and Roberto Covetti would be silenced forever. Not only that, in future all of Holy Mission’s problems would be solved by the SMPI. But in return, she would have to ensure a steady supply of girls between 12 and 16 to the SMPI and sometimes boys too.
***
5 hours later.
At 7:15 PM, a goods vehicle that was not supposed to move before 6 AM the next day, rammed headlong into Angela and Roberto Covetti’s car, killing both of them instantly.
At 7:32 PM, the news reached Elizabeth Gomes. In joy, Elizabeth pulled off all her clothes. In anticipation, she had bought a dozen big bananas an hour ago. She did not waste time in putting them to good use. She snatched and tore off one from the pile and peeled it off instantly. She inserted the peeled banana inside her vulva as deeply as possible and started turning it slowly.
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Book 1
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SIBIS
Kolkata: 2nd January 2045
Vijay Sharma, head of SIBIS — Stop India Becoming an Islamic State — was having a heated, friendly discussion with his trusted lieutenant Sumantro Sen (pronounced as shumawntro shen with a soft t). Actually it was held some 25 years back. Cootoo, Vijay’s CompuTrot was playing the conversation.
Both Vijay and Sumantro had some close similarities. Their forefathers had come to India as refugees from West Pakistan and East Pakistan. Driven out by barbarous, bloodthirsty sub-human Islamic fundamentalist vermin. Beside whom Adolf Hitler would seem like a cuddly, loveable teddy bear and his Nazi soldiers like a gang of innocent, harmless, pre-pubescent boys. Another similarity was that both of them had an unbridled, unmixed hatred towards the two Islamic States flanking India on either side. The residents of the two being referred to as Pakistani Pigs and Bangladeshi Bastards.
Not only that. They had invented far more proper, appropriate names for those two countries inhabited by the lowest form of animal life. Pakistan was renamed as. Piggystan, meaning land of Pigs. Fuckistan, meaning land of Fucking Pigs. Bangladeh was luckier. It was gifted with more names. Each perfectly fitting it. Jawngladesh meaning land of Uncivil Pigs. Nangladesh, meaning land of Naked Pigs. Hangladesh, meaning land of Greedy Pigs. Kangladesh, meaning land of Beggarly Pigs.
“Vijay, we could have crushed those Pakistani Pigs and Bangladeshi Bastards but for the HAMs amongst us.” HAM was the short for Hindu sucking Asses of Muslims. A term coined by Sumantro to derisively describe secular-labelled so-called Hindus who supported each and every divisive activity of Muslim fundamentalists.
Refusing to abide by Indian law and following the Shariat — wherein they could have four wives and invoke triple talaq — a rule that had allowed them to proliferate like rabbits.
Supporting Pakistan and flying the Pakistani flag in India-Pakistan sporting encounters.
Refusing to sing India’s national song ‘Vande Mataram’ – an ode to the motherland.
Demanding job reservations for Muslims.
Rioting at the drop of a hat at perceived, imaginary hurting of fragile religious sentiments.
Teaching religious fundamentalism in Madrasas, special Islamic schools set up with petrodollars from Islamic fundamentalist countries.
Using mosques as shelter grounds for foreign and home-born militants and terrorists.
And so on…
In every single action, unashamedly, unreservedly exposing their trans-national loyalties, pan-Islamic sentiments, disloyalty to India, treacherous designs in India.
Growing bolder by the day. Like an ever-increasing, ever-fattening army of leeches sucking blood from the body of the Indian nation.
If kept unchecked, unfettered, a day would come when the bloodsuckers would suck all the blood out of the body of the Indian nation. To leave it lying on the ground on its face. Dead. Dead. Dead.
“Sumantro, if non-HAM Bengali Hindus had been vocal against this shameless pampering and appeasement of Muslim fundamentalists from the beginning. As they had been against British rule in India. Things would not have come to such a pass.”
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